


Little Warrior

by Flynns_Hellhole



Series: QuirrelTiso shit [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: AWKWARD-ASS FLIRTING, AWKWARD-ASS HUGGING, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, The whole package baby, a lot of crying, and i'm VERY SAD ABOUT IT, bug cuddling..., but again this is for me myself and i, but that's a surprise tool that'll help us later, god tamer and tiso used to know eachother, happycrying, i wrote this for me myself and i, kinda-sorta?, laughcrying, probably out of character tbh, quirrel is sad a lot, tiso is secretly a softie but is also a piece of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynns_Hellhole/pseuds/Flynns_Hellhole
Summary: Quirrel was expecting to finally rest at the Blue Lake. It'd been a long journey, and he'd fulfilled his purpose. Everything was quiet.And then Tiso happened.Not that it was a bad thing, though.
Relationships: (kinda?? it's implied), Monomon the Teacher & Quirrel (Hollow Knight), Quirrel & Tiso (Hollow Knight), Quirrel/Tiso (Hollow Knight)
Series: QuirrelTiso shit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640356
Comments: 44
Kudos: 237





	1. In which Tiso disrupts the peace

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO i can't write for jackshit but i sure can try, i hope whoever else sees this enjoys this self-indulgent bug fic as much as i enjoyed writing it  
> also please excuse the chapter titles i'm not used to naming them individually
> 
> wanna yell at me?? wanna beat me up?? attacka me with a branch?  
> tumblr: flynns-hellhole  
> 

The water reflecting off the walls, Quirrel noted, looked much like a kaleidoscope.

He’d been alone for some time now, sitting in silence and staring at the waves. The little Ghost had run off minutes ago, leaving him in the cold empty blue of the lake. He drew a breath.

...Cold.

Staring now into the abyss of water, Quirrel felt strangely at peace. So, standing and burying his nail in the sand, he stepped closer to where the water met the shore--the chill of the water making him jump slightly, but not impeding his path. He allowed himself a moment, there, closing his eyes to the pale blue light. With nothing left to find, and his purpose fulfilled, Quirrel felt at peace. He went to step further into the water...

“You, there!”

...and was very promptly interrupted. He turned to see an unfamiliar figure on the sand, about his height, if not slightly taller. They wore a hood, shrouding their face save for two piercing white eyes, and wore a set of armor. The stranger glared towards him nearly expectantly. Quirrel blinked.

“...Pardon?”

"Another warrior on the trail for the Colosseum, I assume?"

"What?"

“Your nail seems sharp enough to cut through stone,” the fellow commented, “so you must have been honing it for a reason. An impressive weapon, yet hardly a marvel in the face of my own.”

Quirrel blinked, casting a confused, blank stare towards the bug.

“...Not exactly,” he replied slowly. “I keep this weapon sharp for when I may need it. I try to avoid trouble, if I can.”

“Nonsense! I’ve never been one to fall for such tricks. Yours is the look of a fighter.”

The stranger looked him over again.

“...Or, perhaps, a very well-trained scholar,” they sneered. “How can you find yourself in this dull cavern when the call of battle lurks so far away?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it dull.” Quirrel turned his gaze back to the water. The other raised an eyebrow and stepped further towards the shore.

“I would,” they said bluntly. “The serenity here disgusts me. I seek the satisfying screams of a victorious battle. And if you know any better, little warrior, you may follow in my tracks.”

“Hm.”

Quirrel stared thoughtfully at nothing in particular.

“I’d much rather stay here and enjoy the peace,” he nodded. “At least for the time being.”

“Hmph. Then I’ll take my leave alone.”

“Why not stay here for a while?” Quirrel looked over his shoulder at the bug. “It’s unwise to travel with no rest.”

“It would be a waste of my time.”

“But it would do wonders for your energy, my friend. And perhaps, wonders for your stamina left to fight with.”

The armored bug snarled lightly. Yet, with reluctance, they showed themselves near the shore as well, kneeling and starting to polish at their shield. Quirrel stared with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, don’t you have a nail?”

“I have no want for a nail,” they growled. “My wits and my shield are the only weapons that I need to stay alive.”

“I suppose everyone has their skills, then.” Quirrel shrugged lightly and sat down near the other.

“So, my friend--”

“I’m not your friend,” they interrupted. “Strangers. We’re strangers.”

Quirrel took a deep breath.

“Well, allow me to make us less unfamiliar, then. My name is Quirrel. I’ve traveled Hallownest twice-forth, and I’ve taken to rest at this serene place. What of you?”

The other paused for some moments, sparing a puzzled glance at Quirrel before heaving a sigh.

“Tiso. I’m here to fight in the colosseum and win,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to his weapon the moment he stopped speaking.

“Tiso,” Quirrel echoed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tiso gave no response. For a while, the only noise in the cavern was the soft tide brushing against the lake’s shoreline. Quirrel made minor attempts at conversation, but Tiso either gave one-word responses or no response at all. Eventually, Tiso stood.

“I’ve rested enough. Are we going, or not?”

“We? I thought you were going to ‘take your leave alone,’” Quirrel jabbed. Tiso squinted at him.

“I gave into your demand to rest. You owe me a journey there. Grab your nail; we’re leaving now.” He stood and walked towards the exit of the cavern. Quirrel didn’t respond for some moments--processing, was all. Soon, he was able to manage a response for the warrior.

“What?”

“Are you deaf now, too? We’re going. Get up.” Tiso paused briefly in the opening, casting an annoyed gaze back to the scholar. Quirrel glanced between him and the lake.

Eventually, he found himself standing and drawing his nail from the sand, following the footsteps of a man he’d just met.


	2. In which Quirrel prioritizes tours over Tiso's increasing desire to fight shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The City of Tears is a beautiful place, according to Quirrel. Maybe if he tries hard enough, Tiso can pretend to be interested.  
> The rain -is- a little intriguing, though.

The entire elevator ride down into the City of Tears was full of Tiso ranting and raving about how he’d been trained extensively for battle, and about how he’d most certainly claim victory in the Colosseum of Fools. In any other situation, Quirrel would listen intently. In this situation, he found it impossible to stop his mind from wandering. It seemed near moments ago he was in the archives, sorting through books and scrolls, balancing them on his hand as he used the other to climb small ladders. He remembered once he’d fallen, knocking quite a few reads to the floor--and how Monomon had caught him before he hit the ground. Guilt flushed onto his face, but Monomon was tender with him, helping him tidy up and helping him sort everything again. He laughed softly at the thought of it all again--that gentle peace before it all had gone wrong.

“Are you paying attention?”

Quirrel looked up at Tiso again, blinking rapidly. Tiso cast an amused, yet an equally frustrated gaze at him.

“ _ Amazing. _ You fooled me into thinking you were listening. What have you been doing this whole time?”

“Ah, just thinking,” Quirrel dismissed softly.

“No time to think,” Tiso said, “but plenty of time to get moving.”

As Tiso finished speaking, the elevator thudded to a stop at its destination, toppling him over. Quirrel stifled a laugh. Tiso hissed, shooting to his feet and brushing himself off.

“God damn stupid rickety thing,” he growled.

“There’s a beauty to the age,” Quirrel smiled, standing up and being the first to step from the lift. Tiso snarled to the door, but followed.

Though he pretended not to notice, Quirrel noticed every trace of cautious unfamiliarity in Tiso’s step. He insisted on knowing where he was going ‘by the call of battle,’ Quirrel often found himself being dragged around in circles and found Tiso muttering and grumbling about the City being a maze. A small plan hatched in Quirrel’s mind, and he was unable to stifle a little smile from growing on his face. 

“You know, if you’re having trouble finding your way, I know this place quite well,” he commented, stepping and laying a hand on Tiso’s shoulder. Tiso immediately flinched away from the contact.

“I don’t need help,” he snapped back. “I know where I’m going.”

“I appreciate your confidence, my friend,” Quirrel continued, “but we’ve been going in circles for quite the time now. Allow me to navigate for us.”

Though it took thorough convincing, Quirrel soon was guiding Tiso through their surroundings, evading the sight of aggressive infected, despite his vigorous insistence upon facing them head-on. ‘We mustn’t, unless truly necessary,’ Quirrel told him time and time again. Tiso only responded with a huff or a growl. The moment they stepped towards the exit of the flooded King’s Station, Tiso dove back inside like he was being shot at. Quirrel whipped around, hand resting on his nail, prepared for any fights. Instead, Tiso raised a hand and pointed at the pouring rain.

“What,” he began, “the fuck is that. Why is it doing that?”

“Have you never experienced rain?” Quirrel tilted his head slightly.

“No, I can’t say water’s ever poured from the ceiling where I’m from,” Tiso snarled. Quirrel shrugged and took a step forward. He heard Tiso stifle a sharp gasp as he walked outside into the rain. Quirrel allowed his eyes to drift shut for a moment or two--the pouring rain was cold, yes. In a strange way, though, it felt comforting. Finally, he looked over his shoulder at Tiso, who was staring with eyes wide as plates.

“Well, come on,” Quirrel smiled. “It won’t hurt you.”

Tiso didn’t move. Quirrel sighed lightly.

“Will you feel better if I tell you where it’s coming from?”

“I’m not scared,” he snapped suddenly. “A warrior is to stay on the alert at all times. How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“The lake we were at earlier is above this City,” Quirrel continued, unprompted. “The water seeps through the ground and causes it to rain. The ceiling’s held for years, so no doubt it’ll hold for us as well.”

Tiso settled only slightly. Hesitantly, he stepped into the rain as well.

Only to immediately leap back inside.

“GOD DAMN IT, IT’S COLD!”

Quirrel failed to stifle a fit of laughter.

  
  


Once Tiso had gotten used to the chill of the rain, they were right back on schedule. They were able to avoid trouble, for the most part, save for the few times a pesky Vengefly or two tried to go for the kill. Tiso was quick to dispose of them with either a quick swipe or a bash with his shield. Quirrel caught himself staring, once or twice--it was good to know he wasn’t exactly lying about being trained. Tiso was adamant about not stopping for even a moment on the trail, trying to walk ahead of Quirrel or to squeeze past him. Quirrel was quick to keep him nearby and in check, however, much to the armored bug’s annoyance.

One of the few times he willingly paused in his tracks was in front of the City’s fountain. His eyes traveled from the Knight, to the Dreamers, to the inscription at the base. Quirrel paused next to him, allowing his gaze to wander to the three Dreamers. He felt himself freeze up when he landed on Monomon’s. He noted that it seemed to be raining harder.

“This,” Tiso motioned. “What does this mean?”

Quirrel didn’t respond. He remembered how Monomon had taken him under her wing. He remembered every moment with her--whether it be working, or simply being with her at all. He painfully remembered the day he had to say goodbye, and he remembered the day where he’d never hear her voice again. He felt cold. His face felt hot.

“Quirrel.  _ Quirrel, _ ” Tiso said, nudging his shoulder slightly. Quirrel blinked.

“Huh?”

“What does this fountain mean?”

“Oh,” Quirrel said vacantly. “Do you...not know?”

“I thought I’ve established not being from here,” Tiso replied nonchalantly. “What’s it mean?”

“Ah, well…” Quirrel blinked slowly. “..I’m sorry, I’ve not a clear head right now. I can explain another time.”

To Quirrel’s slight shock, Tiso nodded. The air felt heavy.

“ _ Hallownest lasts eternal.  _ That didn’t work out, did it,” Tiso snarked to himself. Quirrel allowed himself to smile a little--Monomon would’ve liked that joke.

“But, we should get moving.” Tiso turned away from the fountain and towards the ceiling. He squinted against the rain, but stared anyhow. His attention elsewhere, he didn’t seem to notice an incoming Vengefly. Quirrel was quick to draw his nail and strike the pest down in a swift motion. The squeal of pain from the little thing mixed with Tiso’s small yelp of surprise as he whipped around. He stared with wide eyes just like he did at the King’s Station.

“Sorry about that. I should’ve warned you,” Quirrel said.

“You  _ are _ trained, aren't you,” Tiso breathed.

“Not trained, but I know how to use a Nail.” Quirrel smiled a little. “Now, we should go.”

Quirrel scanned over the City briefly for further things to stall with. His eyes landed on the Eastern portion of the City, covered in doors. An idea clicked.

“Have you ever been to the Pleasure House?” Quirrel looked to the warrior. Tiso double-taked at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, have you been there already? I thought you’ve never been to the City,” Quirrel blinked.

“The fucking _ Pleasure House? _ ”

An awkward silence hung over the two.

“ _ Oh, _ ” Quirrel said. “Oh, no. No, no, it’s not like that. There’s a theater, and a hot spring--I figured we could rest there for a moment or two.”

“The fucking Pleasure House,” Tiso repeated to himself. “ _ Shit, _ Hallownest is weird.”

“So, are we going?”

“Sure, why not.”

  
  


Tiso hated how much he genuinely enjoyed the hot spring. Quirrel, though, found it amusing how the moment Tiso tested the temperature of the water, he laid into it up to his shoulders. Quirrel chuckled lightly and took a spot near him, yet still a small distance away. Tiso allowed himself to settle for some moments, his eyes drifting shut slowly, his hood nearly falling over his face. Quirrel noted this.

“Your hood looks big on you,” he commented.

“Mmrrhhrgh,” Tiso replied. Quirrel stared.

He cautiously reached a hand over and tried to lift the hood off of him. Tiso’s eyes snapped open.

“HEY.” He swatted the scholar’s hand away, shooting up into a sitting position. “HEY.”

“What? You can’t help my curiosity,” Quirrel chuckled. “There has to be something you’re hiding here.”

“I’M NOT GO AWAY,” Tiso sputtered, tugging his hood down until it was completely hiding his face. Quirrel grinned, unable to help himself from prodding further.

“Oh, Wyrm, you have antennae.”

Tiso scrambled to his feet.

“I’M GOING NOW, GOODBYE,” he belted out.

“Ah, no, wait!!” Quirrel got to his feet as well, having to talk through laughter. “Wait, wait, I’ll trade you!”

“BYE, QUIRREL.”

“I know where the Colosseum is!! I passed by it on my travels,” Quirrel called after him. Tiso paused.

“If you show me, I’ll show you the way there,” Quirrel offered. Tiso’s hands balled into fists for a moment. Ball, release. This repeated once or twice. He turned around, pointing a finger at Quirrel.

“If you laugh, or call me something stupid, I’m going without you,” he hissed. “Understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Come on.”

With a deep breath and some moments of hesitation, Tiso slowly lifted his hood off his head. His antennae held flattened to his head, but visible. His face was flushed in both frustration and slight embarrassment. This wasn’t what caught Quirrel’s eye. What his gaze first went to was a long scar down the right side of Tiso’s head and down to his cheek. It certainly wasn’t the only scar there, either.

“How did you...get those?” Quirrel stepped closer, reaching a hand out briefly. Tiso jumped and stepped back further.

“Battle scars,” he said, “can I put my hood on now?”

“You…” Quirrel hesitated for some moments, and sighed. “Yes. You may.”

Tiso immediately pulled his hood back on, huffing and grumbling to himself.

“Now, your end of the deal. Let’s go.”

“Of course,” Quirrel said softly. He did his best to drown the aching concern from taking his mind over, and began to guide Tiso towards the exit again. The elevator trip down was silent, save for two things.

“You did look cute, though,” Quirrel joked.

“ _ God damn it. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tiso voice] oH GOD. OH GOD I'M FEELING. OH GOD OH SH


	3. In which Tiso makes a valiant effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gates of the colosseum loom over them both, and Tiso is more eager than ever to sink his teeth into the fight.  
> Quirrel, personally, has mixed feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd just like to apologize in advance for this chapter being the longest one in the fucking fic  
> 

Quirrel was hesitant to leave the City of Tears to find Kingdom’s Edge, but he knew progress had to be made. He cast a final longing gaze to Fountain Square before slipping through the small crevice shortcut in the King’s Station. Tiso had gone ahead of him, claiming he’d wait for him ahead.

In his hesitation, he nearly fell over at the distant explosion of a Belfly. The situation became strangely humourous at Tiso’s quiet from a distance, yet quite genuine “FUCK!”

Quirrel was quick to run and check on Tiso, however. When he found him, he was knocked into a sitting position, shield arm still held up in front of his face, eyes wide. Quirrel patted him on the shoulder.

“Are you alright, my friend?”

“ _ You could’ve told me about that, _ ” Tiso wavered. Quirrel pulled the ant to his feet, and though most other times Tiso would react to contact with thrashing rejection, he allowed Quirrel’s help this time around. He brushed himself off, shivering at the chill of the flooded shortcut, still ripping at him.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh?” Quirrel leaned over to him. Tiso waved a hand dismissively, docking his shield back at his side. They climbed from the small tunnel and proceeded further into the cavern without looking back. As they grew closer to the ascent, Quirrel spoke up.

“Ah, I forgot to mention,” he called forward, “we’ll have to do a lot of climbing.”

“Nonsense. It can’t be that bad,” Tiso chuckled.

The moment they emerged into the chasm, Tiso paused.

“Ah,” he said. “Hm.”

“We’ll rest on the way up, of course,” Quirrel commented, wandering up to be at Tiso’s side. “But there are plenty of bugs up there that would be less than happy to see us. More than there were in the City. Do you think you can handle it, my friend?”

“Is that a trick question?” Tiso glanced over at him for a moment, grinning slightly. Before Quirrel could respond, Tiso dashed ahead of him, quick to start the trek upwards. Quirrel was quick to follow behind him, shouting out warnings of unstable ground or incoming pests--both of which Tiso tended not to process. The warrior became quickly covered in scratches and cuts from his inelegant scrambling up and up. He didn’t seem to care much about it--he was too eager, too focused on the distant horizon to even think about looking back.

The Aspids, though numerous--and frankly, quite infuriating--were much less of a task to push through when one wielded a shield. The two worked in near unison when their only option was to fight. Tiso would use his shield to block off a bullet or two, and Quirrel would dive to go in for the kill. The climbing and fighting soon proved exhausting, however, and they came to a rest at a small ledge near the path they were using to ascend. Quirrel was quick to polish and tend to his nail--he knew he’d have to keep it sharp just in case any other infected bugs came to cause trouble. Tiso had the same idea in mind, though the polishing was less for any real reason save for looking impressive. Quirrel noted a small crack was reaching from the center and sprawling towards the left.

“Is your shield going to give you any trouble?” he asked. Tiso glanced at Quirrel, then back to his weapon.

“I doubt it,” Tiso shrugged. “Those bugs hardly stand a chance against me.”

As he drew his attention back to his weapon, Quirrel cast his gaze upwards again. Faintly above them, if he strained, he could hear laughter and cheers. To be expected from an arena, he supposed. Despite this, he still leapt back when he saw a corpse plummetting down the gorge. Tiso looked up.

“Is something the matter?”

Quirrel didn’t respond for a while. Eventually, he crept his gaze back onto Tiso.

“Tiso,” he said softly. Tiso glanced up again.

“Hm?”

“Tiso, are you sure about this?” The shakiness of Quirrel’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Tiso spared a look to the chasms, looking at it up and down. He jumped slightly when he saw yet another falling warrior, but to Quirrel’s surprise, he began to laugh.

“Ha! See what I mean? They stand no chance against me! Look at them, the little things!” Tiso cackled to himself, grinning uncontrollably. He felt adrenaline in his brain--a rush that he was hardly able to stifle. When he looked back at Quirrel, his smile faded. All he saw in the other bug’s eyes was fear. He pressed his lips together.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Right.”

A heavy silence loomed over them for what felt like forever. Quirrel tore his gaze away from the chasm and to the floor. Tiso’s mouth gaped as he searched for words to say--for anything.

“If I promise you I’ll be fine...will you feel any better?” he asked quietly.

Quirrel slowly looked up at him. The pain, the panging concern in Quirrel’s eyes--it tore at Tiso’s head deeper than he could handle. He took another sharp breath.

“Look, I…I trained for longer than I can remember to become a real warrior,” he began carefully. “And I trained for longer than I can remember to come here and fight. I know what I’m doing and how to do it. Can you trust me?”

Quirrel stared for another few moments before sighing softly and looking back down.

“Alright, Tiso. I trust you. If you’re sure.”

Without another word, Quirrel stood and got moving again, waiting for Tiso to catch up before climbing.

  
  


Though Tiso’s eyes filled with stars on sight of the massive Colosseum’s gate, Quirrel found himself frozen up. Tiso was saying things to him, pulling him by the arm, but he didn’t hear a word, nor did he react. Despite the reassurances from mere minutes ago, he felt that same dread creeping up his throat and out of his mouth.

“You’re still sure about this?”

“Of course!” Tiso pulled his arm a little harder, stumbling him further towards the maw of Hell. “Why wouldn’t I be sure? This is what we came for!”

“What  _ you  _ came for,” Quirrel muttered. 

“We,” Tiso insisted. Quirrel sighed and followed Tiso’s steps inside. Suddenly, the warrior paused, turning back to Quirrel with an idea on his face.

“Would you want to watch a round first?”

“Pardon?”

“We can go and join the crowd for a round or two,” Tiso continued, “so you can see what it’s like first. So you know what I’m getting into. Maybe that’ll make you stop worrying about me.”

“I think that would do the opposite of that,” Quirrel said weakly.

“I at least want to show you how easy this’ll be for me,” Tiso insisted, squeezing Quirrel’s arm. “Those bugs may as well be throwing the match the moment they walk in! I’ll clear through them faster than you could count, scholar.”

“But you saw those bodies falling down, Tiso,” Quirrel continued, keeping his voice steady the best he could. “I don’t want you to become one of them.”

“Ha! Me? Among  _ them?!  _ Please, you must be kidding! They’re just cannon fodder for the competition, as far as I care!”

“But, then...what’s the point? Just to kill…? Just to die?”

Tiso blinked and stifled another laugh.

“Don’t get philosophical on me, Quirrel! I’m fighting for the glory and the  _ honor _ of victory. I’ll grind them into dust.”

Quirrel took a small breath.

“I’ll watch you fight,” he offered weakly. “But I don’t think I’ll stop worrying.”

“Right then,” Tiso said, leaving his mark on the Trial of the Warrior. “Find a spot with a view. I want you to see all of this.”

He turned to the closed arena gate, its glory begging for his patience. Fortunately, Tiso had enough left in him to wait for battle. Quirrel couldn’t bring himself to move. Cautiously, he stepped forward and took Tiso’s arm. The other blinked, breaking his gaze from his dream to look at another.

“Quirrel?”

Quirrel trailed a hand to Tiso’s, squeezing it lightly, saying all he could manage to say without a word spoken. Tiso stared in silence.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Quirrel finally whispered.

Tiso sighed, and placed his spare hand over Quirrel’s.

“You won’t,” he assured.

Just then, the gate of the arena tore upward, opening its arms to the next warrior. Tiso carefully wrestled his hand from Quirrel’s.

“I’ll...see you in the crowd,” he said, offering a small smile. Quirrel just nodded, and left to find a way into the audience. And slowly, Tiso emerged into the light.

  
  


Quirrel quickly began to fully understand what Tiso meant by the bugs in the Colosseum not standing a chance. His shield spiked outward occasionally, nearly looking like a large flower, which acted as a blade the most a shield really could. He was agile, and at the very least, seemed to think for a split second before moving in for a kill. 

...A  _ kill. _ The thought of Tiso being a killer haunted Quirrel’s head.  _ They’re infected,  _ he tried to reason.  _ They don’t know any better than to fight.  _ But the coordination and the movements of the armored Fools that fell one by one told him otherwise, and he suddenly felt very sick. The noise of the crowd all around him, piercing through his skull, made it impossible to think. 

Tiso, meanwhile, was having quite the time. His surroundings blurred as he darted up, down, anywhere to dodge, everywhere to land a strike--and every time, his heart spiked with a thrill as a Fool crumpled to the floor. The arena, the battle itself--it was everything he wanted and more, everything he’d trained for and more. Whether the fighters were infected or not mattered nothing to him--though, he preferred the ones that still had will in them, as they presented a decent enough challenge. He hardly kept track of whatever opponents were thrown at him--aspids, vengeflies, Fools--it hardly mattered, as long as he  _ won. _

Though, both of them noted, in each short moment of quiet between a wave of enemies, Tiso gazed into the crowd, directly at Quirrel. Though worry and dread still coursed through the apprentice’s head, the thrill in the warrior’s eyes was enough to defeat it, even if very slightly. 

The first Trial passed by like a breeze. When the gates swung open at the end and the crowd screamed and flooded the arena in Geo, Tiso couldn’t help but cackle out in victory. Quirrel couldn’t help but join the crowd’s hollering with what he could, proving Tiso’s eagerness quite contagious. He collected what he could from the rewards, and left for a moment’s while to rest. Quirrel found himself rushing from the crowd, into the entrance of the Colosseum, and throwing his arms around Tiso in his excitement.

“Tiso, you were wonderful out there!” Quirrel spoke through small giggles. “Wyrm, I’m not sure why I even worried!”

“Uh,” Tiso said.

“Are you alright, though? I saw you take a couple of hits, let me look at you,” Quirrel continued, quickly going to scan Tiso over for any especially bad hits.

“ _ Uh, _ ” Tiso repeated.

Quirrel locked up when he realized what he was doing.

“Oh,” he squeaked, pulling back from the embrace. “I--I’m so sorry, I hardly--hardly realized what I was…”

“No. No, no, it’s okay,” Tiso said, not taking his eyes off Quirrel. “Could we...do that again?”

Quirrel nodded softly. Carefully, awkwardly, Tiso put his arms back around him. Quirrel found himself clinging a little bit, nearly holding the warrior like a stuffed toy. He felt Tiso settle slightly into his arms. And for a minute, things were beautiful.

“But, um--” Tiso stepped back suddenly, refusing to look back up at Quirrel. “But I should keep going. Before I, uh. Before I get drained out.”

“Right,” Quirrel said. “Right, I’ll find my seat again.”

“Right,” Tiso echoed.

The Trial of the Conqueror was as amusing as it was absolutely horrifying. Quirrel certainly didn’t expect the floor to drop into spikes, and neither did Tiso. Tiso handled it like a champ, grappling at walls and launching himself at opponents the best he can. Quirrel, meanwhile, squeaked out in panic every single time Tiso seemed to stumble or fumble. Otherwise, save for the Oblobbles (which Tiso VERY openly expressed his hatred for), it went by like a breeze.

The anxiety from earlier crept back into Quirrel’s head the moment Tiso marked on the Trial of the Fool. Tiso noticed near immediately.

“...Quirrel, there’s nothing to worry about! I trampled the other two Trials; this is going to be a breeze!”

“I heard chattering in the crowd, Tiso,” Quirrel muttered. “There’s something in there. Something... _ bad.  _ They kept saying it would…” He shook his head, refusing to finish what he was saying. Tiso sighed and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine, Quirrel. Can’t be worse than those damn Belflies,” he joked. Quirrel giggled lightly, and offered Tiso a sad smile.

“If you get hurt out there, I’m going to be very upset,” he said weakly.

Tiso smiled, and turned back to the gates, stepping inside one last time.

The Trial was brutal, of course, and Tiso was battered and bruised by--what, the 17th wave in?--and yet he kept fighting. So close he was to reach the glory of trampling the Colosseum. So close he was to collapsing. So close he was to nearly getting flattened by a Mawlek minutes earlier, and if it weren’t for his agility, it would’ve been the case. When it seemed like the endless barrage of opponents had finally paused, he collapsed to a knee, gasping for air. It was strange--at that moment, the crowd came to a sudden hush. Quirrel gazed around the arena, scanning for anything and everything. Slowly, Tiso looked up.

And slowly, the gates in front of him opened.

Eight orange, glaring eyes loomed inside the opening. He stood and backed away, preparing to face the beast head-on.  _ Another mindless creature for a finale,  _ he thought.  _ How fitting. _ The beast slowly lumbered from the shadows. Wielding a blade much larger than herself, the God Tamer stood tall atop its back, staring at her opponent in silence. 

Tiso’s eyes were full of fear. 

_ No,  _ he thought.

With a roar, the Tamer raised her weapon and dove. Tiso lunged out of her way--but the Tamer and her beast were cunning, were quick, and were trailing him near every time he tried to get away. Tiso could hardly feel the ground beneath his feet, could scarcely see his surroundings from how much he scrambled to stay away from  _ her. _ No, no, no,  _ no, no,  _ **_no._ **

Tiso didn’t fight, didn’t lunge--he fled, and he defended, and grappled away the best he could. But one can only run for so long. An orange blob of infection struck his leg, burning into him like hellfire. He screamed, and he wailed, and the crowd whooped and laughed. Quirrel was still as stone. The Tamer again dove for him, and he raised his shield to throw her off.

The moment the blade struck the battered, cracked weapon, it broke into pieces. Tiso squeaked, scrambling backward across dirt and stone, wincing and cringing as it dug into scratches and wounds like art across his form. The Tamer loomed, light burning in her eyes behind her helmet, aflame and unfeeling. Tiso feebly raised his arm where his shield used to be.

“...why...?” Tiso croaked. And the God Tamer laughed.

_ “Lhhittle Fool,”  _ she wheezed.

She lunged for a final time, and with an injured leg and no energy to spend, Tiso couldn’t move. Quirrel wailed out as the blade cut through the Fool with ease. The crowd, silent, hardly reacted as Tiso’s broken body dropped like a rock through the ground. God Tamer turned her head to the crowd, raised her blade to the skies, and roared to her victory. The crowd roared back, laughing hysterically as she and her beast slipped back into the shadows. 

Quirrel was long gone from the audience, hurtling down the gorge as fast as possible, eyes relentlessly scanning the ledges--and landed on the one where he and Tiso had rested hours before. There he laid, crumpled and bleeding, armor cracked to shards. Tiso’s eyes were glassy, empty, staring at nothing.

_ Please,  _ Quirrel begged.  _ Please. _

He rushed down to Tiso’s side, feeling at him for any warmth--breathing, but barely. Just barely. Quirrel ghosted a hand over the wound the Tamer delivered, across the chest, bleeding through cracked armor. He choked back a sob.

“No, no--Tiso, hang on, it’s okay--” Quirrel lifted him carefully, eliciting a short pained grunt from the warrior. He weighed his options--Dirtmouth. Dirtmouth was safe. Peaceful. Empty. No-one there to hurt them. He held Tiso just a little closer.

“We’re going to get help,” he said to both himself and Tiso. “You’ll be alright.”

_ Through the City, through the Crossroads, up the well,  _ he thought.  _ Through the City, through the Crossroads, up the well. _

He lost Monomon. That wasn’t his choice. But by God, if he had any say in it, he wasn’t going to lose Tiso, too.


	4. In which Quirrel has an emotional breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the City, through the Crossroads, up the well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I TEAR OUT OF MY GRAVE AND GASP] OH GOD WHERE THE FUCK AM I  
> in all seriousness sorry for not updating for a while, life caught up with me, but enough chat let's go

_ Through the City, through the Crossroads, up the well,  _ were the only words pounding in Quirrel’s head as he tore through rain and cold. He knew Tiso didn’t like the rain, so he bent slightly to take most of the downpour the best he could while he ran. Tiso was hardly alive, yet conscious enough to weakly cling onto Quirrel’s hand. There was no time to cut through infected bugs as he weaved and flashed through the City--no mere second to waste, no mere moment to pause--and as such, took a scratch or two as he ran. Not that it mattered much to him, of course--there were more significant issues at hand than his own. He hardly even felt it. Faster than Quirrel could count, he was ascending and avoiding the husks of knights. Faster than Quirrel could count, he was cross-legged in a much-too-slow rickety elevator, a hand feeling at Tiso’s forehead. An eye opened, scarred and half-lidded, emptily gazing at Quirrel.

“Tiso?” Quirrel breathed. Tiso mouthed something in response, but no words could vocalize out nor could be formed. Just as fast as the blurred figure of Quirrel formed in front of Tiso’s eyes, it was gone into darkness again. Stifling a sob, Quirrel squeezed Tiso’s hand--the warrior twitched, but had no response. With a short clank, the elevator paused, and the doors opened. Wasting not a breath, Quirrel pulled the warrior into his arms yet again and tore towards the dark once more. However, since last he’d been there, the Crossroads were much more... _ orange,  _ than they’d used to be.  _ They renovated and didn’t have the courtesy to tell me,  _ Quirrel joked lightly to himself. The smallest bit of comedy he could grasp at was immediately drowned out by the overwhelming, consuming anxiety that Tiso could die in his arms. Not if he’s quick enough, he thought. Not if he could focus. He soon figured it’d be a much better idea to avoid the infected bugs like the plague-- _ like the plague,  _ he had amused himself with--rather than facing them head-on. A Furious Vengefly had charged at them, leaving full-armed Quirrel with not much to do than shield Tiso’s body and dive out of the way. The thing had crashed head-forth into a stalagmite, and the explosion made Quirrel’s thoughts ring and his body sting--but his priority was on Tiso, making sure he was unscathed, and continuing up his path. When he reached the beacon of gentle lantern light descending from the well, a soft accordion tune beckoning him up, Quirrel could just barely bring himself to smile.

“There,” he whispered shakily. “There, do you see that? We’re going to be okay.”

Tiso gave no response but a faint sigh.

  
  


At the clattering of a chain, Nymm paused his playing. He turned his head towards the well which it came from. Cautiously, he took one or two steps backward, not letting his gaze leave the small structure. The Elderbug looked up from a silver flower in his grasp and spared the musician a glance.

“What worries you?” he asked. Nymm nodded towards the well with the noisy chain. Elderbug looked over as well, and felt a small pang of happiness for just a moment-- _ The little knight,  _ he found himself thinking.

“Ah, that’s nothing to worry about,” Elderbug nodded. “A small warrior has been passing in and out of Dirtmouth for a short while. I’d assume that’s them once more.”

“The little one,” Nymm nodded, allowing himself to settle enough to continue playing. Elderbug nodded. Nymm felt content, then, as what he thought was the small creature grew closer--what emerged from the well, however, looked nothing like them. A pillbug nearly toppled to the dirt as he crawled from the well, cradling what looked to be an ant in his arms. The pillbug looked up, eyes almost frenzied, and uttered a relieved breath at the sight of others. Forcing himself to his feet, Quirrel dragged towards the small village. The pain from scratches and cuts he’d hardly noticed began to set in, and he stumbled slightly--but continued at a limp.

“Hhh,” he croaked, “help him. Please.”

It took the two in Dirtmouth a moment or so to process what was going on. Nymm was quick to set his accordion aside beside the bench for these moments and support the fellow, frantically glancing up at Elderbug for assistance on how to help. Elderbug blinked, but was quick to catch on. Quirrel could barely hear voices and could scarcely see Elderbug pointing somewhere--he couldn’t tell apart words or sentences or noise, nor could tell a bug from a blot. He cried out weakly as he felt Tiso’s body carefully lifted from his arms, and tried to reach out for it--and was met by empty air. As Nymm approached the abandoned house in the village, previously occupied by one that had been lost in the Wastes, Quirrel was guided elsewhere to rest. He could hardly tell what the house was, but he assumed it was someone’s living space. Though, he stopped caring when he lost consciousness.

  
  


The first thing on Quirrel’s mind when he woke up was if Tiso was alright. He took no moments to take in what the house looked like, only looking for the presence of another--and when he found himself alone, he dragged himself to his feet once more and stepped into the town. Still, there stood the musician, eyes shut and content as he played--the one who’d carried him. Quirrel took a weak step forward.

“Tiso,” he gasped. Nymm paused and glanced up.

“Pardon?”

“Where’s Tiso?”

“Aren’t you meant to be resting? You were scratched up worse than a marked map,” he joked lightly. 

“Please,” Quirrel croaked. “Where…?”

Nymm glanced toward Sly’s shop, where the Elderbug currently bargained for a bit of food to offer to the town’s guests.  _ He won’t mind,  _ Nymm figured. He motioned towards the small house next to Iselda’s shop. Quirrel nodded in thanks and carried himself to the door. He was more than eager to check on the warrior, and yet...that cold, creeping dread of loss lurked at the back of his head like a hunter. He took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

It wasn’t that shabby of a place--a small living space, yet not too small to be suffocating. It was mostly empty at the time, though some evidence of a previous resident were strewn about. A little journal of wanderers and princes used to be on the nightstand. Now, it was placed aside on the floor in favor of a small tray of untouched food. Next to the stand was a small, round bed, where Tiso laid staring at the ceiling. His eyes were half-lidded, but they glowed white against the dark hut. His breaths were slow, rising and falling like a tide. Quirrel felt himself choke up slightly when he saw how much Tiso’d been treated--bandages wrapped ‘round nearly his entire torso, his arms and hands, layered around his burnt leg. He didn’t even see Quirrel walk in.

“Tiso?”

Tiso did not look down from the ceiling. Quirrel stepped closer to be at his left side. He gently nudged Tiso’s arm where it wasn’t injured. Tiso’s head tilted slightly towards him in acknowledgment, but tilted back towards the ceiling.

“Tiso,” Quirrel breathed, relieved. “Wyrm, I thought I lost you--”

“Why didn’t you leave me there?”

Quirrel blinked, dumbfounded by the response. He lightly squeezed the warrior’s arm. He opened his mouth to speak and found no noise would come out.

“You should’ve,” Tiso continued, voice flat. “Let me die a Fool’s death.”

“Tiso, I wasn’t going to leave you there.”

“Why not?” Tiso looked up at Quirrel again with a weak glare. Weak, but enough to make Quirrel flinch his hand back.

“Why not let me suffer the death I rightfully deserve?” he continued dryly. “If I lost, I lost. You had not the right to intervene.”

“I intervened because I was  _ scared,  _ you--” Quirrel shook his head. “I wasn’t going to let you rot in Kingdom’s Edge like that. Not after you’d come so far.”

“We reached the Colosseum,” Tiso muttered, “you didn’t have to follow me anymore.”

“I suppose I grew attached,” Quirrel said softly. “I suppose I don’t want to lose you.”

Tiso cracked a small, yet visible smile.

“Not very clever, for a scholar,” he jabbed. Yet, there was no bite in his voice as his smile grew. Quirrel laughed weakly, and Quirrel began to cry. Tears bottled and stored away for longer than he could remember came pouring down his face, and he laughed. Tiso’s eyes widened, and he sat up with a pained grunt, and Quirrel laughed and cried and clung onto his arm.

“Wyrm, I--” Quirrel chuckled through tears-- “What am I going to do with you...?”

Before Tiso could respond, Quirrel had his arms around him again--near protectively, this time, careful to avoid any wounds--and was sobbing, and yet was laughing. And softly, weakly, Tiso started laughing too. Before he realized, Tiso was latched onto Quirrel like he’d known the bug for years, laughing like there was no care in the world--like where they were, at that time, nothing was ever wrong in the first place. He was reluctant to let go at all once Quirrel began to move back, but allowed him space. Quirrel scrubbed excess tears off his face, embarrassed to have broken like that in the first place. He eventually looked back up, sniffling.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked quietly. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No,” Tiso interrupted. “It’s fine. I...IthinkImessedthatup,couldwedoitagain?”

Quirrel smiled lightly.

“Hm, I couldn’t quite hear you,” he grinned. “Could you speak up a little?”

“That. Could we do  _ that _ again.”

“ _ That?  _ Why, I can’t be sure what you’re talking about, Tiso,” Quirrel said, having trouble containing his laughter. “You’ll have to be specific!”

Tiso couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hug me, you asshole,” he ordered.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to stir up any of your woun--”

_ “Fucking hug me,”  _ Tiso repeated. Quirrel shrugged and obliged. The way Tiso sighed and settled into his arms certainly didn’t go unnoticed--and Tiso was entirely aware of how Quirrel held him closer, more tenderly than he had before. In the gentle silence, there was safety.

“Quirrel…I…” Tiso couldn’t summon his words, no matter how hard he tried. “I...why is this so hard? I…”

Quirrel gently hushed Tiso, bringing a hand up to pet at the back of his head.

“I know,” he hummed. “I love you too.”

Tiso sighed contentedly and leaned his head into Quirrel’s chest. He mouthed the words several times, as his voice wasn’t ready to say it--and Quirrel echoed every time. And when Elderbug walked in again in search of Quirrel, they laid arm in arm--hurt, but together--healing, but far from alone.

  
  


When Tiso was back on his feet again, he insisted on being out and about. Quirrel was quick to try and regulate how much excitement he got involved in at once, fearful that the warrior could get hurt again. Yet, Tiso was quick, and Tiso was clever, and a newly crafted shield was all he needed before he tore back into Hallownest blazing like a wildfire. Currently, though, he laid in cold sand, head resting on Quirrel’s lap. A gentle blue light illuminated the scholar’s face, which was quite the spectacle to him. He allowed his eyes to drift shut at that moment--right here, at this time, there was no need to hurry. The only noise was water, ‘till a voice broke through the noise.

“Can I ask you something, Tiso?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Tiso smirked. Quirrel chuckled lightly.

“Well...you ran into me by chance, yes?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you had intended to go alone,” Quirrel continued.

“Yes, go on,” Tiso nodded.

“It’s been on my mind, as of late; why did you make me follow you? I know well that your reasoning wasn’t that I ‘owed you,’” Quirrel said, “so why?”

Tiso went quiet, and thought for some moments.

“Well, if you’d asked me then, I’d just say ‘because you have nothing better to do.’ But I think it was more than that. I think I was worried.”

“Why would you be worried?” Quirrel said slowly. Tiso sighed.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You didn’t look right.”

Quirrel closed his eyes for a moment. Softly, he squeezed Tiso’s hand. He opened his eyes again and smiled weakly.

“If it means a thing,” Quirrel whispered, “I’m quite thankful you found me.”

Tiso opened an eye and smiled back.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am too.” 

Tiso tilted his head to look over the water, squinting slightly against the light. He hummed in amusement.

The water reflecting off the walls, he noted, looked much like a kaleidoscope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, this fic sure is something that i made  
> i wanna bet that this ending was super predictable and probably not well-made but i'm pretty happy with it and i think that's just enough for me  
> didn't expect people to like, actually read this, so whoever read this far thank you genuinely and to the best friends i sent this to relentlessly i am so god damned sorry to pester you with the bugs but i love you and thank you also for just existing generally  
> but anyways that's enough of flynn being sappy, hope y'all liked this gay as shit bug fic, i might write more eventually if y'all would be down for that  
> the concept of being perceived by a lot of people and a lot of people acknowledging something i made is honestly fucking terrifying but if you wanna contact me uhh go for it i guess  
> (also no worries bretta is okay!! i like to think that at this point she's gone on her quest herself and i'm proud of her)


End file.
